The Slayer in Camelot Rewrite
by swiftly through the trees
Summary: Buffy is transported to Camelot, where she aggravates and intrigues the arrogant Prince Arthur. With Uther's shadow looming over her, Buffy must accept the aid of the Prince and his friends to stay alive and get back to Sunnydale. Rewrite of previous version: "The Slayer in Camelot."
1. The First Meeting

**So here it is - the rewrite! I hope you guys enjoy. I've already written three chapters, and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed writing this fic. Plenty more to come.**

* * *

Arthur Pendragon was annoyed. Being of an irritable nature, most of the time, this was not an uncommon occurrence, but today Arthur had a very good reason (in his opinion) to be so. His manservant, Merlin-the-bloody-irritating-sod, had managed to be an even worse servant than usual, and as he was such a bad servant anyway this had made Arthur's morning almost unbearable.

First off, Merlin had brought him cold breakfast. Ten minutes late. Arthur had been so hungry he had almost been forced to _go down to the kitchen_ and clout the bloody-irritating-sod on the head himself. Then Merlin had decided to _dust_, and while Arthur might have commended him on finally taking an interest in a large part of his job, he didn't exactly appreciate the copious amount of dust he had to inhale whenever he stood up, because Merlin had forgotten to open the window before shaking out the rug next to Arthur's bed. When Arthur had mentioned it to him, Merlin had given him his blank, blue-eyed stare, as if to say, "_Well just open the window yourself_." And Arthur, being Arthur, had thrown his helmet at him, which resulted in a dented helmet and a doe-eyed manservant who was making Arthur feel _guilty_.

Add this to the fact that Arthur's fireplace had decided to belch out a considerable amount of smoke (because _someone_ had added the wrong sort of wood to it yesterday), it was no surprise that Arthur could be found sitting on his bed being annoyed, and giving his manservant the worst sort of glare he could muster.

Merlin seemed to be desperately avoiding his eyes. He bustled around with his back turned, and did a strange sort of shimmy around the desk so as to keep it that way. Picking up the helmet Arthur had previously dented (it was only a little dent but to Arthur it was the _principle_ of the thing that mattered), he attempted to poke it back into shape. Arthur's glare was losing it's intensity as he watched Merlin's careful attempts to fix the gear, at least until the helmet slipped out of the boy's fingers and bounced off the desk and onto the floor with a resounding CLANG!

"Merlin," said Arthur in a sinister voice.

"Um…" was all his manservant could say.

Arthur heaved a great, put-upon sort of sigh and got to his feet, Merlin eyeing him warily as though Arthur was going to beat him to death with a boot or something else just as ridiculous (though maybe it wasn't so ridiculous – there was a certain murderous edge to his thoughts as he spotted the extra-large second dent Merlin had made in the shining metal). Arthur simply walked over to the door and pulled it open with unnecessary force.

"Where are you going?" Merlin asked, picking up the helmet gingerly and examining it.

"Out." Arthur said shortly.

Merlin, sensibly, did not pursue the subject. He turned his full attention to the damaged piece of armour as Arthur slammed the door and strode off down the corridor, with no particular destination in mind, only to get as far away from that damned room as possible.

As he strode through the corridors servants scurried out of his way, the maids bobbing quick curtseys, weighed down with piles of linen or trays of crockery. Arthur paid them little attention, and instead focused on trying to calm the anger that was roaring through his system. It wasn't really just because of the helmet; that had simply been the breaking point. There had been a swell of anger inside him ever since this morning and Arthur didn't have much idea why.

Getting the vague idea that some time alone with a practice dummy and his sword would help him cool off, he headed towards the armoury. It was on the way down the winding stairs that he first saw her.

There was no doubt that she was a her. Arthur had never seen anyone quite so… exposed, before (well not in a public situation anyway. He never liked to think about that time Lady Elisia of Gallaha had set her sights on him – it was a well-kept secret and one he was pretty sure he would take to the grave). She was small and blonde, her hair pulled back off her neck and tied together with some sort of strange, thin fabric band. Her skin was tanned and she was standing with her head tilted, looking out the window, displaying her smooth neck. She was practically naked, wearing only a bit of purple fabric on her top half, held onto her shoulders by thin straps that looked as though they could fall off at any moment, and some tight, blue fabric covering her legs., which flared out at the bottom.

Arthur was rather shamefully fascinated.

He cleared his throat, attempting to attract her attention, and she turned her whole body around to look at him.

"Hi," she said. "Did you want something?"

Her accent was strange… foreign. Arthur's first thought was that she was some sort of beautiful foreign princess, visiting from some faraway land. His second thought was that she was something of a trollop, perhaps making her way either to or from the Knight's quarters.

"Sorry," he mumbled, flustered. "But I've never seen you here before."

Why on earth was he _apologizing?_ He was the _Crown Prince_. Really, something very strange had gotten into him today.

"Yeah… well, I've just arrived," the girl sounded as though she was on the brink of laughter. Her blue-grey eyes roved up and down Arthur, drinking in his appearance. "Um… can you tell me where I am, please?"

Arthur hesitated. He really didn't know how to address this strange, frank creature. If she really _was_ a trollop, he didn't want to embarrass himself thinking she was some sort of lady. But… he didn't think she was, really. She was wearing diamonds in her ears, and a thin gold chain around her throat with a ruby pendant. No trollop could afford such expensive things, but no lady of the court would dare to go about in such revealing… clothes. (Arthur could hardly bring himself to call… _that_… clothes.)

His theory about the foreign princess seemed to be winning.

"Well," he said, choosing his words carefully. "You're in the East Wing, just above the Armoury."

The girl rolled her eyes. The nerve! Customs must be different in her land, but you'd think she'd have learned some basic manners before travelling. Her tutor should have made sure of it.

"Yeah, that doesn't really help me here buddy," she said.

_Buddy?_ Was that some sort of title? Arthur felt a little out of his depth.

"What do you want to know, then?" Arthur asked.

"Where am I?" she said again, waving her arm vaguely out of the window she had been studying earlier, which opened onto a market square a few stories below. "What is this place?"

"It's… it's the Castle," Arthur said. Really, she was a trifle unprepared for a visit to Camelot. She should have an escort or something. Perhaps he could arrange one. And find her some more suitable clothes.

"_What_ castle? Castle _what_" the girl asked. "It kind of looks familiar, but…"

"Well, it's _the _Castle," Arthur said, bemused. "There's only one castle in Camelot after all."

He finally seemed to have said something right. The girl gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "_Camelot_? Like, Round Table, Excalibur kind of Camelot?"

"Uh… Camelot," Arthur was bewildered, but at least they were getting somewhere in this strange conversation.

The girl smiled, and Arthur blinked. It was funny how someone so lacking in the fancy clothes and jewellery of the court ladies could look so… radiant. He smiled back, weakly.

"Wow…" the girl turned towards the window and surveyed the market square. "I can't believe it. This is _so_ cool. Giles is gonna be _so_ jealous."

It came to Arthur, then, that perhaps she was rather simple-minded. He looked at her more kindly.

"Do you need someone to show you around?" he asked. "I presume you have rooms… perhaps you would like an escort?"

The girl did not seem to be listening. She turned back to Arthur and took in his chain mail and tunic. "Who are you, anyway?"

It occurred to Arthur that he really should be insulted by her irreverent ways. He drew himself up to full height.

"Arthur Pendragon."

The girl looked at him. "Arthur… _Arthur Pendragon?"_ she squeaked. "_Really_? So… you're King Arthur?" she began to mutter to herself. "I thought he'd be _older_."

"_Prince_ Arthur," Arthur corrected her.

"_Oh_," she said. "Okay. That'd explain it. So… Uther is king?"

When Arthur nodded, the girl said, "I knew history was good for something. Or… Giles did. I guess I'll have to thank him when I get back."

Arthur had had enough. He had some questions of his own.

"So who are you?" he asked. "What is your name?"

The girl blinked. "Buffy," she said.

Arthur thought she had sneezed for a second. He looked at her blankly, and she repeated the odd sound. "Buff-y."

"Buffy?"

"Buffy. Buffy Summers."

He'd never heard the name before. He'd never even thought a sound like that _could_ be a name. Thinking that he really should organise some sort of escort for this… Buffy… Arthur looked around, hoping to spot a maid who could carry a message. The corridor was deserted, but he could hear footsteps up ahead, and eyed the corner carefully, wanting to catch the eye of anyone passing.

The sound of running feet made him pause, then turn around. The mysterious, infuriating girl was running full-tilt away from him, her strange, leathery shoes barely touching the ground. She was fast, he gave her that, but surely a mere girl couldn't outrun the Crown Prince of Camelot. Without thinking about it, Arthur chased after her, calling "Come BACK!" at the top of his voice.

He pursued the fleeing figure along two corridors. He didn't really know why he was pursuing her, but he thought… for some strange reason… that she was important.

Important, maybe, but she was also _extremely fast._ Arthur had to finally stop, hands on his knees and panting in exhaustion, watching as the distant figure rounded a corner and left his sight. He realised that he was being stared at by about a dozen maids, who seemed to be torn between giggling at him and retaining the decorum usually required by all servants. Arthur shot a few of them withering glares and strode off with as much dignity as he could muster, thinking that he should really head back to his room, and maybe have a bath.

Merlin stared at him when he entered. Arthur noticed with amazement that the previously dented helmet was shiny, freshly oiled and conspicuously undented, and hung next to his scabbard on the wall. His manservant was sitting on a chair scraping at one of his boots with a knife.

"Where have you been?" Merlin asked, his features twisted into confusion and a bit of amusement. "You look like you've had a race or something."

Arthur ignored him. Nose in the air he stalked over to his bed and pulled off his mail, which he had donned that morning in anticipation of a practice with a couple of the Knights. Merlin raised his eyebrows but said nothing more, and resumed the continual scraping of his boot, occasionally flicking glances over to Arthur, who sat on his bed deep in thought.

His brain could not fully make sense of what had happened in the past half hour or so, but there was one thing he was almost certain of, which was that that was not the last time he would see the mysterious girl.

* * *

**As ever, reviews make my day/night/week/year!**


	2. Gwen

**Thanks for the feedback, guys! This chapter's a fair bit longer, so I hope that's good. I was going to make it two chapters but I couldn't work out a way to start and end, so I just kept it all together.**

**Hope you guys are still reading. I haven't written the next chapter but I'm on a roll, so it'll be up pretty soon.**

* * *

Buffy made it out of the castle at last, her blood running high, smiling at what had just happened. She was still slightly in shock over meeting _Arthur Pendragon_ (who was fairly attractive, she had to admit), and the fact she was in _Camelot _of all places. And why on earth had… Arthur… _chased _her? Perhaps it wasn't the done thing to run away while the Crown Prince was looking up the corridor. She would have to work on that. And get some more suitable clothing. Everyone was _staring_.

Buffy leaned against one of the Castle walls, out of sight behind a large pile of hay, which smelt like horse and manure, catching her breath and running her mind over the events of the day. She remembered very little, and this frustrated her. There'd been Toth coming into the Magic Box, and their hunt for him in the dump. She remembered Spike had been there, with some sort of plastic arm. And then Toth had appeared- her memory was hazy here- she could hardly remembered at all. He'd had the stick thing that he'd had when he attacked Giles and he'd blasted it at her hadn't he? Maybe. And then she turned up in a corridor of the Castle and met Arthur.

_Arthur Pendragon_. That bit had been pretty cool.

Buffy was just about to move out of behind the hay, because frankly her nose could only take so much manure smell in one day, when she heard footsteps, hurried ones, quite close by. Pressing herself to the castle wall and (hopefully) out of sight, Buffy watched a girl of about her own age, or maybe a little older, approach her hiding spot.

She looked like a servant of some sort, wearing a cream coloured dress and embroidered, mustard yellow pinafore, with a red cloak fastened about her shoulders. Her skin was tan and her dark hair pinned neatly about her head in an unassumingly pretty sort of style. Her clothes were nothing compared to the sumptuous gowns in Giles' history books, but they were fairly nice, and the sort of practical clothes that would be useful, if Buffy could get her hands on any.

The girl, thankfully, turned just before she caught sight of Buffy, and headed off down the cobbled street towards a market of some sort. Without really thinking, Buffy followed her at a safe distance, hoping that nobody would see her and think her too suspicious. The girl would have a house, wouldn't she? Buffy could steal or borrow some clothes, or at least a cloak. She didn't like to steal, but sometimes it was necessary, and she could give it back afterwards, she justified.

The girl led her down another deserted alley and then into wider, busier streets. Buffy couldn't hide anymore so she tried to ignore the stares, pretending she knew where she was going, keeping her eye on the girl all the while.

Finally the girl stopped outside a black wooden door in the stone wall. She gave two faint knocks, then pushed the door open, revealing a dark interior. Buffy strained her eyes but she could barely make out the shadowy shapes of a table before the door swung shut behind the girl, and she was left staring at black wood.

About to give up on her plan, and find some other oblivious person to steal (_not_ stealing, really) from, Buffy made to turn away and head back down towards the market, when the sound of a horse's clip-clopping hooves came to her ears. Turning in the direction of the sound, Buffy gasped and looked around wildly for any place to escape from the sight of the _armed warriors_ that were trotting down the street.

Buffy ducked into the small space between the street and the girl's doorway, trying to blend into the black wood with little success. The warriors seemed to have little interest in the street, though, they were more intent on making their way towards the market square. Buffy sighed with relief as they passed, her cheek pressed into the black wooden door. She jumped a little at the sound of voices on the other side, then stayed as still as she could, listening, not daring to move in case she made too much noise and they came out to investigate.

"How was your day, Gwen?" the voice was deep and masculine, with a rich, accented timbre. It was the same accent Arthur had had, Buffy remembered, except that in this case it was far more pronounced.

A girl – Gwen – spoke up. Buffy thought this was most likely the girl she had followed. Her voice had the same accent, but it was far quieter and Buffy was grateful of her Slayer senses, without which she probably would have been hearing a one-sided conversation.

"It was fine. Same as usual really," said Gwen. "Morgana had another nightmare last night, though. She told me about it."

The deep male voice sighed. "Poor girl," the tone was sympathetic. "Can Gaius' potions do nothing?"

"Gaius can't cure everything, Father," said Gwen. "How was your day?"

Buffy made a mental checklist in her head. So the girl was Gwen, and she was a servant to someone called Morgana, and… hang on… _Morgana_? Morgana le… le something? Fay, that was it. Morgana le fay. It sounded like she was living in the castle, but wasn't she evil?

_It's earlier than the legends_, Buffy reminded herself. She returned to her growing list of information about Gwen. Her father was called Tom and he was a blacksmith, working in forges near the castle. He mostly made armour and swords for the Knights, of which Arthur was the head.

Finally Buffy heard footsteps. It seemed that both Gwen and Tom were heading towards the back of the house, and now would be the opportune moment to sneak in and grab some clothes (if she could find any). She felt even worse about the stealing now she kind of knew Gwen and Tom, but there was nothing to be done.

Buffy pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked on its hinges. Inside the house someone had lit a fire and it was warm and light. There was a bed in one corner, next to which was a heavy wooden chest, probably a clothes chest of some sort. Sneaking over to it, praying that Gwen and her father would stay in the back room, Buffy lifted the lid. Bingo! Inside were two more embroidered pinafores, plenty of the under-dress things, and a green cloak made of a felted woollen sort of material. Buffy grabbed the cloak, the under-dress thing and one of the pinafores and was just standing up when she heard soft footsteps heading towards the room she was in.

* * *

Buffy dived for the door, but Gwen had already entered the room, and was looking around. Her eyes alighted on Buffy, who was standing with Gwen's clothes in her arms, halfway between the open wooden clothes chest and the door.

Thinking quickly, Buffy sprang forward and covered Gwen's mouth with her hand, before the other girl could scream. Gwen struggled under her hold, but Slayer strength won out, and Buffy, keeping her hand on Gwen's mouth, twisted her head around, trying to look Gwen in the eye.

"I'll let you go if you _promise_ not to scream," Buffy said, feeling terrible for the fright she must be giving the poor girl. Gwen slowly nodded, her movements still restricted by Buffy's hold. Carefully, Buffy let her go, and Gwen, panting, look at her.

"Who _are_ you?" she asked. "I'm warning you… my father is in the back room…!"

"I know," Buffy said. "_Please_ don't call him. I don't want to hurt either of you."

Gwen looked her up and down. "Well you'd better explain," she said. "And don't move!" looking around, she snatched up a long metal candle holder and brandished it like a weapon. "Stay exactly there!"

Buffy did as she asked. "I…" she was at a loss for words. "I don't really know how to explain…"

Gwen eyed the garments in her hands. "They're _my_ clothes," she said, accusingly. "You were _stealing_ my clothes!" She raised the candlestick a little higher.

"No! Well… yes," Buffy flapped her hands at Gwen to try and stop the candlestick rising any higher. "But I can explain! I was going to return them!"

Gwen's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Oh really?"

"_Yes_, really!" Buffy insisted. "_Please_ just let me explain? I'm Buffy, by the way. Buffy Summers."

Gwen sighed. She lowered the candlestick a little, and glanced back at the doorway. "Fine," she said. "You can explain. But keep your voice down, or Father will come back in and you won't be able to reason with him as much as me!"

"Thank you," Buffy felt like crying with relief. "Thank you so much! And I really _was_ only borrowing your clothes…"

Gwen raised her eyebrows but made no comment.

"Okay, so, I'm not a burglar…" said Buffy. "Not really. I just… look at what I'm wearing. I don't really fit in around here."

Gwen's eyes raked over Buffy's singlet top and jeans. "I can see that," she said. "You're practically naked!"

"Nuh _uh_!" Buffy defended her clothing choices. "Well, not where I come from. I…" she looked at Gwen. She could trust her, right? She would need some friends if she wanted to get back to Sunnydale any time soon, because even though it was cool to be in Camelot, she was kind of missing her friends… and her house… and even Giles (but she would never tell him). And it wasn't like California, it was probably totally normal to have magical stuff happen around here. There was all that stuff about the Round Table and Merlin and everything, right?

So Buffy explained. Gwen was a very good listener, really. She asked only the most important questions and if Buffy skipped over a few details and stumbled around the wordings, she didn't seem to notice. (Buffy _had_ been going to tell her about being the Slayer, she really had but somehow… she hadn't). When Buffy finally finished, Gwen stared at her for about ten seconds, then said: "Well, you're in trouble, then."

"Exactly! I knew you would understand," said Buffy, who hadn't known anything of the sort, but she _had_ hoped. Optimism worked wonders. "I don't suppose you know where to find any… uh… witches, then? To send me back?"

Something seemed to come over Gwen, then. She took a little step back from Buffy and her face fell into lines of worry. "Oh dear," she said. "Oh God… I'd forgotten. How _stupid_. Oh…"

"Gwen?"

Gwen didn't seem to hear her. She was hurrying over to the window and closing the thin, cloth curtains, then sliding a bolt across the front door. "You are _so_ lucky Father hasn't come out here," she said. "He must have fallen asleep, he had a hard day."

"What's going on?" Buffy asked. "Why did you shut the curtains? You seem kinda… stressed?"

"_Stressed?_" Gwen seemed to be having hysterics. "Oh, I'm _stressed_!" she suddenly turned deadly serious. "How do I know you're not even a sorceress or something. How do I know you're not a spy from Uther trying to find warlocks and witches? Why did I even let you _explain?_ Oh, I'm so _stupid_?" she ran her fingers through her hair and glared at Buffy, who was nonplussed.

"Look, I'm not spying for anyone," Buffy said earnestly. "I'll prove it to you in any way I can. I _promise_. I'm just a girl in need of a little magical help."

"That's the _problem_," said Gwen. "What about _Uther?_"

"Uther? He's… he's King, right? Arthur's dad and all that jazz?"

Gwen gasped. "You've met Arthur?"

"Sure. Nice guy. Tall. Blond. A bit too… loud, for my liking."

"Oh this is so _bad_," Gwen moaned. "Why did this have to happen to me? Stuff like this would never happen to someone else!"

"Look. Gwen… chill," Buffy tried appealing to the soft, sweet Gwen she had heard earlier. "You're overreacting a little. Why don't you explain what's going on?"

Gwen looked at Buffy. "You really don't know about Uther?" she asked incredulously.

"I told you! I'm from California," said Buffy. "The accent and all that?"

"Right." Gwen seemed to calm down. "Okay. The thing is, Uther's _really_ against magic. Any hint of magical powers and he'll execute you as fast as he can. There's witch-burnings every other week, and half of them probably even aren't magical at all…" she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Don't tell _anyone_ I said that. Uther would have my head!"

Buffy was astonished. "He executes witches?" she thought of Willow and Tara. "I happen to have two very good friends who are witches! That's prejudice!"

"It is," Gwen agreed. "But then again, we have some really dangerous warlocks out there, who'd do anything to get their hands on Camelot."

"Well, I need to find one," Buffy sighed. "Not an evil one. A nice one. And they can do a nice little spell and pop me back into reality and Bob's your uncle."

The saying seemed to confuse Gwen but she shook it off. "Look, I don't even know why I'm trusting you," she said. "But take the clothes, okay? Just give them back when you're done. I'd suggest pretending to be a servant. There's heaps of us, and that way you can hear the gossip, and find out where any warlocks might be."

"Thank you _so_ much!" Buffy said again. "I really can't thank you enough…"

"It's fine," Gwen said. "I'm probably going to regret this tomorrow anyway. Oh, maybe you should change your name. Especially if you told it to Arthur."

"Good idea," Buffy said. She headed towards the door, clothes in her arms. "Listen, Gwen, I really appreciate this…"

"It's fine," Gwen ushered her outside. "Look, there's a barn out the back of my house that you can sleep. I don't have any room here, and Father would find you out. Stay there overnight, then come to work with me tomorrow. If you get into trouble go to the Lady Morgana's rooms. I work for her, and I'll come along eventually. Just pretend you're a new maid."

"Will do. Thank you again!" Buffy said, as Gwen closed the door and she was once again alone in the street.

* * *

**I can see you guys following and favouriting so ****_please_**** review, it can only mean faster and better updates, because it makes me motivated!**


End file.
